


Capsule Claus

by MellikeMellow



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Goten is a himbo, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27924520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellikeMellow/pseuds/MellikeMellow
Summary: Bulla finds out that Goten still believes in Santa. Her mission then becomes preserving the holiday secret when it comes under threat.
Relationships: Bra Briefs/Son Goten, Trunks Briefs/Marron
Comments: 22
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm alive! Sorry guys, 2020 has just been... A lot. Along with Covid, family stuff, and a new baby, it has been nearly impossible to find time or inspiration to write much of anything. However, this fic has been sitting in my doc folder, and I've decided to put it out there.
> 
> The next chapter of Rarity is coming, I promise. To everyone still holding on, reviewing, commenting, thank you! I hope everyone is staying healthy and drinking lots of water.

"He _what_?"

Concealed behind a flourished newspaper, Trunks pretended to ignore his sister.

Undeterred, Bulla reached across the breakfast table and snatched the top of the sheets down far enough to meet his annoyed expression.

"I was reading that."

"I'm sorry, Goten still _what_?" Bulla crowed over her brother, who merely rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Are you joking with me right now?"

Off his continued flat look, the young girl erupted into obnoxious giggles, then into full on cackles. She doubled over in her mirth, missing the pitched chunk of bacon that skimmed above the crown of her fine blue hair. 

"God, you're such a brat," Trunks grit between his teeth. "Could you please be a little more mature?"

"Excuse me, I'm not the one who till believes in Santa!" Bulla cried between hiccups of laughter. "How is that even possible!"

"You two, enough at the table," Bulma set her mug down firmly, quelling the sibling bickering. "You know how your father hates disruptions at meals."

As if on cue, Vegeta smacked his palm against the side of Trunks' head and landed a sharp heel on Bulla's toes. Both children recoiled from their father, hissing apologies to their father. But the Saiyan prince remained otherwise disinterested in the conversation, still busy with his sixth helping of pancakes.

Rubbing at his sore temple, Trunks shot his sister a dirty side-eye. "You know how Goten is. I don't know why this even surprises you," he grumbled. 

"It's true," Bulma nodded in agreement with her eldest child. "Goten is just as naive and innocent as Son-kun was. Come to think of it, I want to say even Goku believed in Santa into adulthood - at least, until he and Chi Chi had Gohan, I suppose."

"I guess I never thought that a grown, adult man would still be walking around, believing that fairy tale," Bulla shook her head with a chuckle. "But I guess it is very 'Goten', isn't it?"

Vegeta grunted around a mouthful of egg, swallowing it audibly. "That imbecile is neither grown nor a man," he chided, unaffected by the glower from his wife and children. "Don't give him too much credit."

"Vegeta!" Bulma scolded with a smack to his forearm with her fork. "Stop being mean for once! It's Christmas!"

" _Tomorrow_ is Christmas _Eve_ ," Trunks corrected his mom, then levelled a glare and brandished a finger at his sister, earning himself an eyeroll. "And you'd better not say anything to ruin the party for Goten."

Bulla's mouth fell agape. "I wouldn't do that to him!" She shouted, insulted by the idea.

"Sure," Trunks sniffed as he rose to clear up his several stacks of dishware. "Look, just don't even think of bringing it up. Last thing he needs is you spoiling his favorite holiday for a laugh."

Her tongue jutted out in response, met by her brother's disinterested back as he made to put away his mess. Appetite suddenly lost, Bulla scooted away from the table as well with her smaller assortment of plates and bowls, making a quick walk to the counter. Without a second look, she shoved her brother aside with an unexpected throw of her hip into his, nearly sending him stumbling with his armload of dishes. Bulla deposited hers into the sink, before turning and striding out with an overexaggerated toss of her long, blue mane.

Her brother's warning had gotten under her skin, and she wasn't entirely sure why. Bulla considered that it was probably embers from an old torch, flickering behind walls she had long put up around it. She used to have a monster crush, sure - Goten was sweet, kind, endearing. Not to mention gorgeous. But he was off limits, and so was she, not that he had ever paid her the same attention in kind. He had treated her with a polite, friendly distance for most of her life, and only in recent years had they begun to have any sort of meaningful conversations just between the two of them, forging a friendship just their own outside of family ties.

She sighed, her chest constricting, as she passed by her favorite Christmas tree in the house. It was a massive blue spruce, adorned with silver decor and tinsel, glittering in the morning light that filtered through the large windows to the left. Out of all the holiday trees scattered around the compound, this one still held the magic of Christmas for her - its beauty awe-inspiring and ethereal. Mock presents had already been stationed below it for appearance, and most of the home had been trimmed to the nines for the Capsule Corp. Christmas party that was going to happen the following night.

 _I’d never ruin something special like that for him_ , Bulla thought glumly as she stared up at the glittering tree. 

With a sigh, she dug her phone out of her pocket, jotting a quick text to Pan, hoping some light holiday shopping would brighten her now soured mood.

*/*

Pink manicured nails traced the stitching over the side of a luxurious black gown that Bulla deemed way overpriced for its craftsmanship (or lack thereof). Idle exploration of the pricey clothing was merely filling as a gap, while she considered how to broach the subject with her best friend.

“Sooo… can I ask you something?” Off Pan’s lifted eyebrow, Bulla half-mumbled, “About Goten?”

“Oh, Kami,” Pan groaned with a beleaguered roll of her eyes. “Here we go…”

“It’s not that! Geeze, ancient history!" Bulla grumbled. “Just-- so, Trunks told me this morning that Goten still… believes in Santa?” When Pan simply stared back in response, Bulla’s jaw went slack. “You’re kidding! For real?”

Pan’s laughter was too abrasive for such a swanky shop, or so the counter girl’s expression of disdain would imply. “Yeah! It’s crazy. Grandma makes a whole big thing out of it every year for him.” 

“Wow…” Bulla murmured, wondering to herself why her cheeks suddenly felt hot. “I… I didn’t really believe it.”

The two came closer together over a shelf of slacks and skirts, Pan sneering at the latter but eyes dancing at the several ripped styles of jeans in different shades. “Anyway, yeah, my dad had to let me know when I was about… seven, I think? I was always suspicious about Santa, and I guess when I was getting serious about my, uh, skepticism,” she paused to glare at Bulla’s giggles , “that’s when my dad told me that Santa is not real, but that Goten still believes. So.”

Her simple shrug did nothing to appease Bulla’s curiosity. “Okay? And, what? Why doesn’t anyone tell him?”

“I dunno,” Pan sighed as she held up some ripped up pants to her waist. When Bulla scrunched her nose up and shook her head, she replaced them for another pair. “Grandma always told dad it would be rude to spoil it for someone else. And I guess it… I dunno, I think it kind of has something to do with how Goten feels about Grandpa.”

 _Ah_. Bulla felt her heartstrings pull in sympathy, as her friend’s expression crumpled for a second.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know,” Pan spoke casually then, as she laid back down the pair of jeans. Bulla groaned in response, refolding several shirts beside her friend, willfully ignoring her sly smirk. “Don’t you know everything about Goten?”

A hard shoulder collided with Pan’s, who merely laughed in response to Bulla’s furious blushing. “I don’t know everything!” The blue-tressed girl hissed as she ducked under her bangs. “Why are you picking on me?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Pan apologized, albeit lacking much remorse in her tone. “You know I just think it’s silly.”

“ _Gee,_ thanks.”

Pan shrugged. “Listen, he’s my uncle. What do you want me to say?” She sighed and maneuvered around to an adjacent table, muttering, "Thank god that's over."

As was standard for discussion of this turn, both girls fell awkwardly silent as they perused the clothing shelving and racks. It had been a while since they’d hit this topic - Bulla’s there-but-not-there romantic feelings toward Goten - and every time it ended up tense. Pan had made it clear she was uncomfortable with talking about Bulla’s interest in her uncle; Bulla couldn’t blame her. That fleeting time a pre-teen Pan had expressed even a modicum of attraction toward Trunks, Bulla could’ve retched. But there wasn’t really anyone else she with whom she felt she could share this part of her - her family wouldn’t take it favorably, Marron was too close to both Goten and Trunks, and none of her other friends (how very few there were) wouldn’t really understand it.

Bulla hadn't meant to drag these feelings back up. She had been in several short-lived romances, forgetting her long-standing affection for a time. But inevitably, her heart would wander back down that familiar, aching path.

“C’mon,” Pan cajoled her, grabbing Bulla by the elbow and pulling her out of her brooding considerations. “Let’s get out of here. I heard that new shop down a few blocks has new kicks.”

Bulla’s eyes lit up at the prospect of shoes; her second greatest love.

*/*

“Mom, when did I stop believing in Santa?” 

Bulma paused mid-pour of her pineapple juice, her profile cast over her shoulder. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

Her mother snorted and turned around with her mixed drink, both brows arched in suspicion. When Bulla continued to look back at her as innocently as possible, Bulma merely drew a slow sip from her glass. 

She clinked the ice, eyes narrowing down to slits.

Bulla groaned. “Okay, fine! I just still think it’s super weird that Goten still believes in Santa, right?!”

“Why is this bothering you so much?” Bulma hummed around the rim of her glass. “I really don’t think it’s that surprising.”

“Just… I can’t imagine it, I guess,” Bulla shrugged. Her snack of an entire fruit tray was only half destroyed - an evident sign of her unease, for those who knew her well. She pushed the tray aside. “How old was I? How did I find out?”

There were fleeting memories. Mostly the disappointment of the realization, or discovery, whatever it was.

“I think… you were probably about five?” Bulma considered and leaned across the other side of the kitchen island to pick at her daughter’s ‘left overs’. “You were always a very precocious girl. Your brother didn’t help much either, I imagine.”

“Did he spoil it for me?!”

“Oh, no, no!” Bulma waved off her daughter with a skewered strawberry. “I remember him not being willing to go along with it all the time - after all, he was a lot older than you, so it was a bit, I don’t know, agonizing for him to have to play along.”

“Did he, though? Play along?”

Bulma chewed around the fruit thoughtfully, before swallowing. “Yes. As dutifully as a child his age could. He had no intention of spoiling Santa for you, Bulla,” Bulma reassured from her daughter’s irritated pout. “You figured it out on your own. You came to us, told us what the basis of your argument was, and we weren’t going to lie to you when you clearly understood. Also, your father has never been a big fan of the Santa tradition, anyway. I think he was happy to be done with it.”

Scooping up the tray, Bulma made to turn away from the counter, but Bulla’s arm shot out at the last second to snatch the tray back, pulling it up close to her again. Her mother laughed, shaking her head as she left the kitchen, leaving Bulla to her own thoughts once more.

Popping piece after piece of succulent fruit into her mouth, the blue girl pondered over why this had been bothering her all day. Maybe it wasn’t so weird that Goten still believed. Maybe he was just playing along with everyone else? No, no, it wasn’t that clever or good of an actor. It wasn’t like he was dumb - right? Certainly, not as bright as Bulla and her brother, but Goten was no idiot. Was it like Pan said? Was it something emotionally or otherwise connected to Goku?

If that was the case, Bulla would certainly guard this tradition for him with her life. 

*/*

"Someone ought to do that boy a favor and just tell him already," Vegeta spat as he landed a stiff punch to his son's gut. Before he could drop an elbow, Trunks zipped around, wrapping his large arms around Vegeta's abdomen.

"What are you talking about?" Trunks grunted and whipped his head back, narrowly avoiding a headbutt from his father. "You mean Goten?"

With a hard heel driven down, Vegeta stomped on Trunks' toes, the younger man releasing him with a growl. Vegeta aimed a swift kick at his knees, which Trunks managed to dodge in a high jump. 

"Yes. None of you are doing him any good prolonging that stupid sentiment," he grumbled as he took a finished stance. Trunks mirrored him, and the gravity room hummed as it died down. "You and your sister figured it out by the time you were barely out of diapers."

"Yeah, but Goten--"

"I can't imagine the rest of his clan enjoys having to put up the charade all holiday."

Trunks made a thoughtful noise in his throat, considering. As they had gotten older, sometimes it was cumbersome to play along. And he knew it pissed Pan off exponentially. Maybe his father was right; were they really helping Goten by keeping up with the farce of Santa Claus?

"I'll think about it," Trunks agreed begrudgingly, following his father out of the grav chamber, towels and water bottles snatched from the entrance bench. "But don't say anything, I'll figure out how to do it. Don't want you to make Chi Chi mad."

Vegeta rumbled in annoyance. "Like I give a shit."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some nice, hot dialogue for you to enjoy. I love writing scenes like these.

After their noon of shopping, Pan had managed to coerce Bulla into joining her for a quick spar. Admittedly, she was a bit rusty - boys, shopping, and indulgence in the finer things in life didn't leave much time for training. At first she had been reluctant, arguing that her mom would be livid if she showed up to the Capsule Christmas party with bruises, but Pan promised to "take it easy" on her, a coy glint in her eye.

Goading always did work on the Briefs clan.

Her abs were straining under the weight of her friend, with Pan pinning her by sitting firmly astride her stomach, but Bulla managed to find the strength to launch Pan off of her by fastening her knees around her hips and tossing her sideways.

The darker hair girl rolled and spun up to her feet, just as Bulla was hopping on to her toes, triumphant smirk on her face. 

"Nice one," a male voice praised from the doorway, and Bulla's heart tripped over itself on its way to her throat. She whipped around to find Goten smiling crookedly as he watched their spar from the entrance.

"Hey, Goten," Pan huffed with a small wave. "Yeah, she told me she uses that one during foreplay."

Beet red and mouth agape, Bulla rounded furiously on a cackling Pan. "PAN--"

Doubling over in laughter, Pan waved her hands and shrank in submission to the encroaching princess, managing a breathless, "I'm joking, I'm joking!!"

Goten's chuckling from the sidelines did nothing to ease her embarrassment, but his lopsided grin gave Bulla a whole other reason to blush.

Winking in her direction, he stage-whispered, "It's okay, B. I do, too."

Recent ruminations of a crush long thought dead (but apparently not) only made her tummy flip harder. Bulla's face felt hot up to her roots. Hoping neither Son could notice, she quickly ducked to grab her shirt, pulling it roughly over her head and sports bra as Goten approached the pair into the gravity chamber proper.

"What're you doing here, anyway?" Pan asked him around a swallow of water. 

"Eh, Mom sent me over with a couple extra trees for Bulma," he shrugged. "I was tryna find Trunks, see if he wanted to grab dinner or something. D'you know where I could find him?" The question was directed at Bulla, who jolted upright at being addressed. While Goten didn't seem to notice, Bulla could feel Pan roll her eyes.

"He was sparring with dad earlier," she told him, proud of her aloof delivery. "I'm not sure where he's off to now."

"Gettin' all gussied up for the party already, I bet," Pan sniggered, drawing a smirk from both Bulla and Goten. 

"He needs all the time he can get," Bulla played along.

Goten suddenly perked up, all but bouncing on his toes as he ducked his head to peer eagerly into Bulla's face. "Oh, hey! Hey! He said he wasn't sure, but did you guys find out if Santa is coming tomorrow?"

 _Oh, no_. Goten's abrupt closeness, his boyish excitement, and the surreality of being posed this very honestly wondered question floored Bulla and brought her heartbeat to a stop. She stared at him in slack-jawed surprise, mesmerized in that moment by the twinkle in his eyes.

A hard shoulder jostled her to the side, grounding her back to the Earth and out of her mind, as Pan bit out of the corner of her mouth, "YEAH, Bulla. Is Santa gonna be there?"

She glanced aside to her friend, who was levelling her with a ' _get it together_ ' glare.

Finding her voice, Bulla cheerfully nodded and clapped her hands together in front of her face, closing her eyes to the adorable vision of him. "Yes! Mama got the call this morning!"

Pan rolled her eyes again. Bulla supposed it was an oversell. But Goten whooped in joy, thrusting an excited fist into the air.

"That's great! I didn't get to see him at the mall this year," he frowned - no, pouted - and held his chin thoughtfully. "Having a job sure makes it hard to get anything else done, huh?"

Neither girl could drum up a response, and Goten sighed heavily, clapping a warm hand on Bulla's back. She held back a shiver. "Alright! Well, I'll see if I can find him. If not, I'll see you at the party tomorrow, eh, B?"

He flashed her a grin, spinning on his heel with a two-finger salute as he exited, Bulla unable to form a proper farewell.

".... Oh, _c'mon_. What the hell is _that_?" Pan growled at her side.

Bulla swayed and turned to face her, and she attempted to train her face into a picture of cool confusion. "What?"

Pan brandished a finger at her threateningly. "Don't you go and get all moon-faced on him again! You said you were done!"

"I am!" Bulla spluttered defensively. "That was a perfectly normal conversation!"

Feigning an exaggerated sweetness, Pan clasped her hands together and pressed them to her cheeks winsome-like. "'Of _COURSE_ Santa will be there! Please tell me you will, too?'" Dropping the saccharine, Pan shoved her finger into her open mouth and gagged.

"You're the worst," Bulla groaned and marched for the exit, unwilling to take this kind of harassment in her own home. "I didn't even sound like that."

Pan blew a raspberry behind Bulla's back as she trotted after her into the hall. "Don't worry, he won't ever find out about Santa if you're gonna lay it on THAT thick."

With a frustrated moan, Bulla ditched Pan as the other girl made for the bathroom, instead following her Saiyan stomach toward the kitchen. However, she slowed as she heard the sounds of her brother and Goten mingling, and ever the nosey sister, she hovered just around the corner.

"You excited about the party?" Goten asked. His mouth sounded full. Bulla rolled her eyes with a charmed smirk - _typical._

She heard a cabinet close and imagined Trunks shrugging noncommittally. "Could be cool. Lots of business insiders coming, Mom said."

"Any hot girls?"

Bulla ignored the jealous pang that beat in her chest as Trunks laughed off Goten's question. "Probably. The steno pool _is_ pretty cute this year."

Ugh, boys, Bulla stuck out her tongue for her own benefit, and Goten chuckled in his throat. "Oooh yeah! How does _Marron_ feel about, uh… what's her name? Tenbou?"

Bulla's eyebrows shot up to her sticky bangs in surprise. _Marron?! Why would she have any feelings about Trunks' new secretary?!_

"Dude!" Trunks hissed, earning another chuckle from Goten. "Shut up!"

"Awww, lighten up!" Goten laughed. "Your secret's safe with me. I'm not looking to get on Santa's naughty list when he's here tomorrow!"

There was an awkward lull - or, at least, it felt awkward to Bulla - filled only by the sounds of the other two eating. 

Eventually, Trunks spoke up, "Hey… Goten…"

 _That tone_. Bulla's belly dropped out. She knew that tone.

"Hmm?"

"About… this whole 'Santa' thing…"

Her mouth fell open in horror. _Don't you dare--!!_

"Yeah!" She could almost hear Goten fist pump. "Bulla just told me he was comin'!"

Trunks sighed through his nose. She knew he was rubbing his temples. "Yeah, listen-- about that--"

A whisper hissed by her ear. " _What are you doing, Briefs_?"

Bulla shrieked and leapt away from Pan, completely caught off-guard, and there was an awful clattering in the kitchen. Two loud stomps echoed, and Trunks' angry face was cornering Bulla from the other side. Caught between the two, Bulla forced up an indignant glare, unwilling to feel guilty for having been caught.

"What are you doing here?" Trunks asked her flatly, already knowing the answer.

She sniffed airily and tossed her ponytail as she marched into the kitchen. Not sparing anyone a second look, Bulla snatched a water bottle from the fridge with an emphasized slam of the door. Nimbly, she hopped backward onto the counter, supposing she'd insert herself pointedly rather than being outed as a snoop. 

"Getting a drink," she replied coolly around the mouth of her bottle. "What are you boys gossiping about?"

"Trunks was gonna say something about Santa," Goten nodded toward his friend, who suddenly appeared very guilty under the sharp glares levelled at him by the two girls in the kitchen. "Something about him and the party?"

The expectant silence grew heavier the longer Pan and Bulla stared, and eventually Trunks caved with a nervous laugh. "I, uh… was just gonna say he probably won't like it if you sit on his lap this year, man."

Goten frowned. "Why not?"

"Because you're a grown man?" Pan offered as though it were the most obvious answer, joining Bulla upon the countertop with her own water bottle. "Only kids should do that."

A sharp elbow landed in Pan's side discreetly, and she grimaced in apology toward Bulla. 

"He never seemed to mind before…"

"You're just ... too heavy," Bulla rolled her hand in Goten's direction as she came up with a lame excuse on the fly. "Just _look_ at you."

"Santa's bigger than me!" Goten grumbled defensively. " _And_ he's magic, so."

The other three glanced amongst one another anxiously, although Goten didn't seem to notice. His watch beeped shrilly, and he brought the face up to squint at it. An exasperated frown spread across his mouth then, and he cuffed Trunks on the shoulder.

"Sorry, man, I gotta go. That's my mom - she says she needs help finishing up with the lumber haul," he groused and shoved both hands into his back pockets. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

Trunks traded an inclination of his head, and Goten spared Bulla and Pan a smile, before jogging out. As soon as they all registered his ki signature diminish, the girls returned their glowering upon Trunks, who met them with an annoyed glare of his own.

"What do you think you're doing?" Pan admonished him. "Grandma's gonna kill you if you spoil Santa for him."

"Why are you trying to be a buzzkill!" Bulla continued the tirade. "Weren't you just telling me this morning not to ruin it?"

Trunks heaved a beleaguered sigh and ran a hand through his lavender fringe. Not meeting their stern looks, he said, "Listen, I thought a lot about it, and it's not like we're doing him any favors by keeping up this … charade, right?"

"Oh, god," Bulla rolled her eyes dramatically. "You listened to Daddy."

"No! I mean," Trunks glanced sideways, abashed, "It's not like he's wrong. C'mon, like you said Pan, he's a grown man. Wouldn't you be embarrassed to find out your whole life you've believed this fairy tale?"

It was quiet for a beat, and Bulla looked aside to see Pan in what appeared to be guilty contemplation. Aghast, she swatted her friend on the arm. "Pan! Seriously?"

"He _does_ have a point," she shrugged helplessly, as Trunks nodded along. "What if someone else tells him. Shouldn't it be us? Then we can treat him with kid gloves."

The unintentional pun earned a quick giggle from Trunks, then Pan, but Bulla remained resolutely unamused.

"You two are terrible," Bulla sighed as she jumped down from the counter. "How often do any of us get to feel that kind of… innocent happiness? And you wanna just rip it away from him? Some friends you are."

Trunks sighed. "You're _so_ dramatic."

"Super dramatic," Pan agreed under her breath as Bulla stomped her foot in disagreement.

"Well, whatever! I'm not gonna let you tell him," she huffed. "You… fun-eating monsters!"

Satisfied with her not even dramatic at all exit, Bulla marched out of the kitchen and up to her room for a long, thoughtful scrub. She wasn't exactly sure how she intended to prevent Goten's best friend and niece from divulging this ultimate secret, but dammit she'd find a way.

But she'd need backup.

/*/

"D'you think she's gonna let it go?" Pan wondered of Trunks as he escorted her toward the front lawn. "Bulla."

He made a disgruntled noise in his nose and shut his eyes as though pained by the question. "Bulla's like a dog with a bone. She won't let anything go."

Pan groaned and shook her head. "You Briefs. Always gotta be nosin' around in _something_."

"Like you weren't listening with her," Trunks scoffed.

"No way!" Pan seemed insulted by the idea. "I'm not some snoop! I went to the bathroom, then found her listening there."

"What a brat…" He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Pan arched one eyebrow and a slow smirk drew on her lips as she leaned in conspiratorially then, " _Al-though_ ," she sing-songed, "What's this about _Marron_ , huh?"

The eldest Briefs heir flashed an assortment of colors, before hastily shoving Pan the rest of the way out the front door without so much as a 'goodbye'.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Christmas Party is underway!

The majority of the Capsule Corp compound had long been decorated for the holiday season, but no area was as lavishly adorned as the Entertainment and Business wing the night of Christmas Eve. Bulma was no skimp when it came to business occasions; the Briefs were always known to impress during the holidays, spoiling staff and associates with gifts, vacations, and of course the annual Christmas party. 

The entire wing had been decked out in bright golds and crimsons, lush blue spruces lining the halls and trimmed top to bottom in warm red and white tones, sparkling baubles, and brilliant lights. The heavy wooden banister of the stairwell leading up to the main ballroom was wound with a pine garland spattered with holly, filling the area with a fresh odor that mingled crisply with the scents of cinnamon and orange. All guests would be in agreement: the wing had been transformed into a grand hall of opulent Christmas.

Bulma was running around on her phone throughout the home, growling and snapping at different people, while Bulla kept herself busy assisting in the direction of vendors. Not quite the CEO, but still on the Board, Bulla had been given more and more responsibility in the Capsule Corporation with age. By twenty-five, she was named as head of Marketing and Branding, which she was happy to lord over her brother; he was boring and old, what did he know about trends?

_ With his dumb little ascots… _

Normally she took her position and job duties very seriously regardless, however given tonight’s occasion, she found herself even more hands on than usual. Bulla had made it her mission to pick the most perfect, believable, real life Santa from the auditions scheduled (something she had never bothered with before), selected an appropriate and convincing beard for the costume, and went over minute details of the evening personally with the attending cast. There was no chance she’d let her brother get one over on her and ruin this whole Santa thing for Goten. 

Santa and the Elves had been promised a handsome bonus if they could maintain character for the duration of the evening - even when in company with adults and other staff.

“And trust me,” she pointed a finger at the jolly, round man’s face, the new Santa bewildered by her intensity. “I’ll know if you’ve been naughty or nice.”

However, her playful delivery and charming smile brought the cast to a group chuckle, and she bid them all a good day, leaving the rest of orientation in the capable hands of her assistant.

The door of her car had barely shut when the hands free screen began to beep with an incoming call. Bulla pressed ‘accept’, and Marron’s face illuminated the tiny square on her console. She hadn’t seen the pretty blonde girl in ages, and Bulla thought to herself that if Trunks really was dating her, he was playing waaaaay out of his league.

Bulla smiled wide. “Marron! Hii! Oh my gosh, you look amazing,” she fawned over her friend, who beamed in response. “You’re, like, glowing! What’s up with your skin routine these days?”

Marron laughed lightly, and Bulla began to pull out from the Briefs’ private garage at the compound. 

“Thanks, sweetie. You look great, too. Where are you off to, though? Isn’t the party soon?”

“I have to go pick up a friend,” Bulla sighed as though put upon.

“Oh? Is this a  _ boy _ friend?”

The Briefs girl sucked her teeth and feigned a grimace. “Wouldn’t that be nice? No, it’s this girl that lives aaaall the way over on some sequestered island. Can you believe?”

Marron blinked rapidly as Bulla engaged the jets of her aircraft, waiting until the roar settled into a hum. “Uh… Bulla, are you coming to get me?”

“As a matter of fact, I am!”

“Oh, no! You-- you don’t need to do that! I already told, uhm, your mom I wasn’t coming.”

Bulla smirked and gave her friend the side eye. Marron was never a good liar. She arched her eyebrows at her friend while keeping her gaze trained on the sky outside her windshield, and a long pout pulled her lips down.

“Why, Marron,” she simpered. “It sounds like you don’t even want to see me. You could at least _pretend_ to be excited.”

“Bulla, of course I’m excited to see you,” Marron said. “But you know I don’t like those big spectacles. I’m just not cut out for it.”

She wondered to herself if there was some other reason Marron wasn’t attending, although it wouldn’t be the first time. Often her family would be absent, preferring their quiet life over the frivolity of how the Briefs lived.

“Be that as it may,” Bulla breezed through Marron’s excuse. “I kind of need your help, so you’re gonna have to come tonight, sorry.”

/*/

The party was well underway by 8 o’clock that evening, the compound ballroom practically brimming with an assortment of the wealthy elites and a handful of the lucky few who knew the Briefs personally rather than professionally. Classic and pop renditions of Christmas carols were blasting through speakers over the cacophony of chatter. Waiters rounded clusters of people with trays of champagne and hor d’oeuvres, and Goten stayed practically on top of the lanky boy that served their group’s area. He was inhaling his seventeenth puff pastry when he felt a familiar hand clap his shoulder, and Goten whirled around with a high-five prepared for Trunks’ open palm.

“Buddy! How’s it going?” Trunks laughed over the noise, leaning toward his friend and plucking a pastry from between his fingers. “Enjoying the spread?”

“Oh, man, it’s so good,” Goten mumbled around his mouthful of flaky bread as crumbs sprayed past his lips. “Your mom knows how to cater!”

Trunks chuckled and tossed the sweet back, practically swallowing it whole. “Not my mom; Bulla handles all this stuff now.”

Goten’s eyes flew wide in surprise as his eyebrows nearly disappeared under spiky bangs. " _WHAT?_ B did all this?” He gestured wildly around them. He couldn’t fathom his best friend’s little sister taking care of such a spectacle. He whistled low and long, muttering under his breath, “Sometimes I can’t even get dressed right in the morning, and she arranged, like, the _perfect_ Christmas party?”

“Wild, huh?”

“I guess she’s not a little kid anymore, eh?” Goten’s chuckle slowly died away, but Trunks didn’t seem to notice as he began to frown at the floor between them.

“Yeah… Hey, uh, listen Goten…” Trunks began uncertainly. “Speaking of ‘little kids’...”

There seemed to be a shift in the atmosphere, whether between them or perhaps around the ballroom itself. Trunks glanced up to find Goten staring warily at something just behind him. A small clique had formed around a petite _someone_ with a pile of blue hair atop her head, dressed in a flash of red. He huffed through his nose; Bulla had made her arrival.

“Uh, anyway, as I was saying-- Look, there’s something I need to tell you--” Trunks started again, turning back to his friend … who still seemed to be squinting skeptically at his sister from across the room. “Goten?”

“Sorry, uhm, what?” Goten physically shook himself out of whatever seemed to have bothered him. He flashed Trunks an awkward smile. “What’re you saying about kids?”

Trunks narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he watched Goten’s gaze dart back and forth between his face and the space over his shoulder repeatedly. 

“What are you--”

Suddenly, two arms looped just too-tightly around his neck, and an obnoxious weight jumped upon his back. Trunks groaned, taken off-balance for a second, as his sister glomped on to him from behind and squealed into his ear. 

“Merry Christmas!” Bulla sang spiritedly, all but choking him in her vice-like snag around his throat.

“Bulla, please get off,” Trunks grunted and shimmied to divest himself of his little sister, who remained steadfast in a near-piggy back position atop him. “We’re at a business function,” he hissed in his most serious voice. _Mr. CEO._

Bulla blew a raspberry near the side of his face but released him nevertheless. When Trunks turned around, his eyebrows just about flew off his forehead as he took in her attire. There was his baby sister, in a vibrant red velvet mini-dress, her full chest on display except the three large, black ribbons bound across her cleavage and sternum.

“Excuse me, has _dad_ seen you yet?”

Unwilling to meet his gaze, Bulla snatched up a few passing flutes of champagne, passing one to the two men and holding one close for herself. “It’s Gucci,” she offered in lieu of an actual response and sipped delicately at her drink. Her eyes flicked up to Goten’s somewhat bewildered expression. “Goten! Are you having a good time?”

Immediately, he began to train his face into a strained smile, and there was the distinct impression he was keeping his gaze level with her forehead and the messy-pretty bun atop her head. “Yeah! Wow, this is some party! Trunks said you planned this all yourself?”

Bulla nodded with a grin. “Marketing and Branding means I get to basically be the face of the company. I’d say mine’s a lot prettier than Trunks’, right?” She smirked playfully in aside to her brother, who merely rolled his eyes in exasperation. Both missed Goten’s large swallow of champagne. “Sooo, where are the ladies at, guys?”

Both men shot her confused and concerned glances, and Bulla rolled her eyes this time with a wide sweep toward the crowd around them. “I mean, isn’t the _whole steno pool_ here?” She supplied with a suggestive lift of her eyebrow that did not go unnoticed by Trunks.

“Bulla,” he growled, whipping around on her. “What are you doing…?”

But she was already backing away, her short velvet dress swishing over the tops of her thigh, just a sliver of pale skin and where her boots began. Her red-painted mouth slid into an unnervingly sly smile as she sashayed backward.

“I’m just checking on my esteemed guests! But listen, I’ve gotta run and check on some things, so I’ll see you guys in a bit!” Without a further farewell, the blue-haired girl spun away, and Goten had sense enough to look the other way when her mini-skirt fluttered behind her.

Trunks shook his head after her and knocked Goten’s shoulder with his knuckles. “C’mon. Let’s go check the bar situation.”

He turned, finding Goten still watching Bulla’s retreating form, an oddly transfixed look on his face.

This time, Trunks punched him a little harder, and Goten actually yelped with a jump back and clutched his arm. “What was that for?!”

“ _Dude!_ Are you checking out my sister?!” Trunks barked incredulously.

With an anxious chuckle, Goten reached up to scratch at the back of his head, flashing a toothy grin-grimace. “Sorry, man,” he shrugged helplessly. “Uh… It’s Gucci? Hey! How about that bar?”

/*/

That was a close one. She had managed to catch them just before Trunks could ruin anything. Why did he always want to ruin her parties? _Like that one Summer Bash…_

“Literally no one asked him to cannonball,” she muttered grumpily to herself as she triple checked her tablet, passing it off to her assistant. “Hey,” Bulla spoke directly to the older woman abruptly. “Get Santa and the Elves set up for half an hour earlier than originally scheduled.”

“Uhm, but Ms. Briefs…”

Bulla tutted over her and swept her bangs aside from her eyes, huffing through her nose. “No buts. I think most of our guests are here anyway, and I know my dad would prefer an earlier night than a later one. Just get it done, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her red-bottom heels clicked as she strode out of the small hall to the side, flashing bright smiles and friendly waves to any and all who caught her eye. She hadn’t had much time to do more than politely mingle, thankful she had managed to slip away in time to prevent Trunks from spoiling Santa. She still had her secret weapon up her sleeve if necessary, but Bulla wasn’t quite ready to pull that trigger yet.

Passing another tray of champagne, she caught up a glass and made short work of draining it, just in time for her tummy to rumble a reminder that she hadn’t eaten first dinner yet, and it was swiftly coming up on second dinner. Across the room, she could see the pointy crown of her father’s black hair bobbing up and down at a table close to the buffet line. Her stomach roared again and she grit her teeth through it, continuing her determined march through the crowd.

From her left, a bolt of black jogged up, and Bulla was caught by the elbow, Pan’s hand jostling her to the side. “Hey! Hey, B, what--” Her friend quirked an eyebrow as she looked Bulla up and down. “Uh, what are you wearing?”

“It’s Gucci,” she huffed defensively. “What’s up?”

“Look,” Pan began. “I’ve been doing some thinking, and...I really think it would be good if we talked to Goten about this whole ‘Santa’ thing--”

Bulla groaned. “Oh, not you too--”

“Trunks and your dad have a point,” Pan shrugged. “It’d be better for him if we told him now, instead of finding out and getting embarrassed by someone else later…” At this, Pan waved her hand as reference to the crowd around them. “Y’know. Like in _public_?”

Blue eyes glared betrayed daggers at the girl dressed in fancy men’s wear. “Well, he won’t get embarrassed in public if someone keeps their mouth shut.”

“Trunks is gonna tell him,” Pan warned her. “He’s made up his mind already. And, no offense, but I don’t see you scoring as much alone time with Goten as Trunks does.”

Bulla pressed her lips together thoughtfully, her blue brows knitting together. Pan was right; as Goten’s best friend, Trunks inherently had the advantage of time and proximity with him in this situation. 

However, Bulla had venue, staff, and schedule over him here on her turf. 

“We’ll see about that,” she murmured, more to herself, as she shook loose from her friend and swayed toward the bar. 

She could spy the two men leaning over the bar ledge, laughing and ribbing one another. It didn’t seem like Goten's entire childhood had come crumbling down yet, which meant she still had some time. 

_Secret Weapon: Trunks’ Foil_ was a go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little story is so fun to write. I think maybe one or two more chapters before it's done, just in time for the New Year.  
> I hope everyone is enjoying reading this silly little fic, and thank you all for your supportive comments!   
> Happy Holidays to all of you!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulla's plan "Trunks' Foil" commences... but not without consequences!

He was hoping it was just the champagne, but for some weird reason, Goten had found it exceedingly difficult to keep the image of Bulla out of his brain for longer than a few minutes at a time. There was no denying that she was beautiful (that whole family hit the genetic lottery) and sure, he was only human - he’d noticed her before now. But… damn, Gucci was on to something.

Goten licked his lips and blinked back into the conversation, only half-hearing what Trunks was guffawing about, and he tried to laugh along like he hadn’t just been replaying Bulla walking away in his mind’s eye for the millionth time. 

“God, I really need another vacation,” Trunks sighed wistfully with a toss of his purple fringe. “This is the first time I’ve laughed this hard in a while.”

“You’ve gotta unwind, bud,” Goten shook Trunks by the bicep. “You hole yourself up in that office all damn day. Do you even make time for Marron?” 

Trunks exhaled and glanced down at the empty glass in between his hands. “I try, but y’know. It’s hard to get out there, and she helps a lot with her mom and dad, so same for her.”

The friends nodded sadly together, the pains of adulthood and responsibility sucking up the buoyant atmosphere that had bolstered them both. Goten took a swig of his beer (he switched beverages, maybe that would help with his idle thoughts) and heaved a sigh of his own. “You gotta make time for what you love. That’s what Gohan always says. Find a balance.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Trunks waved his hand. “I don’t even know--”

“Mr. Briefs!” A high-pitched, girlish voice cooed. “Wow, hi!” 

The two men twisted on their stools to blink at a trio of pretty, young women, each eyeing the pair more hungrily than the last one. 

_Ah_ , Goten smirked. _The steno pool._

“Uh, hi,” Trunks chuckled nervously, which Goten found wholly amusing; when was Trunks ever nervous around women? “I’m so sorry, I don’t know that we’ve met yet?”

The first girl, apparently the one with the most initiative, bowed deeply enough to allow both men a generous view of her decollete. She rose with a polite smile and tossed her dark hair over her shoulder before sticking out her hand, “I’m Desi! And this is Suna,” she gestured to the brunette behind her. “And Sweet,” her other hand lifted toward the pink haired girl to her right. “It’s such an honor to meet you!”

“Sweet? That’s an awful nice name,” Goten remarked truthfully, smiling at the now-blushing Sweet. 

“Could we join you handsome men for a few drinks?” Desi queried with an over-affected innocence. 

Trunks glanced sideways at his friend - for an out, for permission, Goten wasn’t quite sure - which was only met with an exaggerated shrug and lopsided grin. 

Permission, it seemed, was all he needed, as Mr. CEO shuffled down a couple of stools to make room for the three pretty women between he and Goten. “By all means, ladies! How long have you all been with the company for?” Trunks glanced down at the bartender and circled the air with a finger, before holding up a full hand of five. “Sir, could we get five champagnes?”

/*/

Now, would Santa approve of her plan initially? Probably not, no. But ultimately, Bulla liked to believe that Santa would be all for doing things for the greater good. And honestly, it was all going to be totally harmless anyway. 

Bulla watched from near the hallway exit as the three clueless girls were unwittingly sent in to commence phase one of her plan -  _ Distract Trunks _ . Trunks may have a girlfriend ( _ allegedly, Marron still hadn’t said anything and she wasn’t gonna ask, because - gross _ ), but his massive ego could never deny himself female attention. 

As soon as Bulla had found the perfect looking group of ladies, she set to work schmoozing them, wondering if they had ever met  _ the _ Trunks Briefs, and  _ “oh my goodness, he’d love to meet you!”  _

The women were putty in her hands.

Again, this was all a perfectly harmless plan. 

She tried to bury the spike of jealousy that flared in her tummy when the pink-haired girl sidled up close to Goten now. Not worth her trouble to dwell on that, and it serving as kind of a benefit to her overall production, Bulla twisted away from the scene to check that her Santa-and-crew were about to make their entrance. The sooner they could get this show on the road, the sooner she could get back to thinking of anything but this for another 365 days (or so she hoped).

“What are you up to?”

Bulla blinked up innocently from her tablet, meeting her mother’s skeptical gaze. “Hmmm?”

“My team just told me I’m about to go on because you’ve decided to bump the Santa meet-and-greet half an hour,” Bulma said. “Why did you do that?”

Her shoulders shrugged, unwilling to give her mother an inch, even as she squinted even more suspiciously. “I know daddy doesn’t like that part, so I figured let’s just get it over with? Wouldn’t you like to have one year where he doesn’t complain all night long?”

The two women locked eyes, neither wanting to concede to the other. 

Eventually, Bulma broke first, her upper lip curling disapprovingly at her daughter, but clearly she wasn’t interested in a fight. “Trust me, your father will always find something to complain about,” she grumbled. 

Bulla laughed lightly, feeling a bit of relief as the tension between them settled. “It’ll be over before you know it,” she assured her mother. “Believe me, I want to get out of here soon myself.”

“Really?” Bulma hummed as she popped a tab on the beer she was passed by an approaching waiter. She took a long sip. “You usually love these things. That’s why I put you up to it.”

“Oh, I do!” Bulla hurried to relieve her mom of any concerns. Last thing she wanted was Bulma getting the wrong idea. “I just… I dunno, I guess I’m a little tired.”

Bulma rolled her eyes. “Oh please, you took a three hour nap as soon as you woke up!”   


“A princess needs her beauty sleep!” Bulla huffed indignantly.

At that, her mother laughed outright, her eyes crinkling warmly down at her child. Something beyond her caught her eye, and she nodded in its direction. “Alright, sweetie, I’m up. Whatever made you change the schedule better be worth it.”

Bulla smiled. “I think it is.”

The older woman brushed her daughter’s loose tendrils back behind her ears as she passed by, making her way up to the ballroom stage. Eyes dancing between her mother and the bar she had been idly spying on, Bulla laid in wait for her moment to commence phase two - _Santa’s Helper._

/*/ 

By now, the group of five had had a few drinks between them. Trunks and Goten, having been blessed with Saiyan constitutions, were still fairly sober (... fairly) - enough so to recognize the women around them were beginning to be less so. 

Sweet leaned in toward Goten, her chest brushing his bicep as she got close enough to whisper, “Do you have any other plans tonight?”

He chuckled, blushing at her forwardness and taking a gentlemanly shift backward. “Uh, besides meeting Santa?”

The girls erupted into laughter, and he only could laugh awkwardly along with them. At his side, he noticed Trunks decidedly not finding the situation amusing. 

“Lucky he’s here then!” Suna suddenly hooted, pointing up toward the stage. 

Beside Bulma stood the large man in a velvet red suit, belly like jelly and full, snow-white beard. Goten’s eyes lit up as he bounced in his seat, entirely missing Trunks’ hand dragging down his face. “Aw, hell yeah!” He fist-pumped, grinning from ear to ear.

“What are you gonna ask him for?” Sweet giggled playfully.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Goten admitted. “I suppose probably some new boots or some really good Tai Chi shoes… mine are all rundown.”

He was surrounded by their hysterical giggling again, and now he couldn’t help but shoot Trunks a confounded glance. But his friend was turning pale, and Goten’s eyes followed the worried stare all the way to the mid-ballroom where a furious Marron was stomping toward them.

Trunks threw back the rest of his champagne flute as Desi purred toward him, “What about you, Mr. Briefs? What are you gonna wish for?”

“Death, apparently,” he muttered as the angry little blonde finally reached them.

“Trunks!” Marron shouted over the din and Santa’s ‘ _ho ho ho_ ’ing from on stage. “What is going on here?”

“It’s nothing, I swear,” Trunks held up both hands defensively. “They’re just from the steno pool--”

Suna pouted. “I’m from Accounting--”

“Shut up,” Marron snapped at her, and the woman ducked out of range from her fury. She rounded on Trunks again. “Is this why you said it would be fine if I stayed home?”

Trunks gaped at her in horror, all but leaping off his stool. “What?! No! I said it was fine because you said you _wanted_ to stay home! Wait, what-- was... that the wrong thing to say?” He shot Goten a pleading look, but the Son boy could only wince on his friend’s behalf.

Desi and Sweet mumbled goodbyes as Marron continued to lay into Trunks, with Suna scooping up another armful of beers as she also fled the scene. Goten was very much aware of his precarious position so close to the couple, and he wondered to himself whether it’d be appropriate to sneak off or if he should hang around to save his buddy from this boiling water he’d found himself in.

“Goten!” 

He turned, and Goten could not recall a time he ever felt so relieved to see Bulla Briefs. She was practically skipping up to him (how could she do that in those boots?!) and apparently in a hurry, as she immediately snatched his hand as soon as she had reached his side. 

“B, hey! What’s up?” 

“Nothing, just-- ooh, ouch,” Bulla hissed through her teeth as Marron yanked on Trunks’ hand to lead him away from the bar. “What happened there?”

Goten roughly chuckled, shaking his head at his friend’s retreating figure as he was led out into the hallway. “I dunno… I guess Marron decided to show up, and she kinda caught Trunks flirting with some girls with me.”

Bulla feigned a gasp of surprise, her hand to her chest. “What are you saying? Are Trunks and Marron… a thing?” 

Off Goten’s flat look, Bulla rolled her shoulders innocently. Clearly he could see right through her. “Aaaanyway,” she continued, less interested in her brother as she shook the large hand still holding ( _was he holding her hand? huh_ ) hers. “Santa is almost ready, and I wanted you to go first!”

Now it was Goten’s turn to gasp - although his was far more sincere. “Seriously?! No line?”

Bulla beamed. “No line. Merry Christmas?”

Without a thought, he tugged her lithe body into his arms, scooping Bulla up into a firm embrace as he whooped in excitement. “Best Christmas present ever! Thanks, B!”

“Ohh, don’t mention it,” she laughed, breathless, when he finally set her back down on to her heels.

She tugged his hand again, and the pair made their way toward the small dias where an elaborate Santa meet-and-greet station had been made. Saint Nick was plopped down into a massive winged-back chair, flanked by three elves and an amassing of gifts. Bulla released him by where the line was to eventually begin, and Goten’s mouth was stretched into an enormous grin back over his shoulder at her, before he made his way up to Santa’s side.

Bulla stood in the wings, watching in barely repressed adoration as Goten rambled on excitedly to the bemused-looking Santa. She felt that old, familiar swelling in her chest that grew and grew until it had lodged itself well into her throat. 

There, in that moment, she couldn’t deny it from her aching heart.

If she could have one wish from Santa, it would be for Son Goten to notice her the way that she had always noticed him.

/*/

“You son of a bitch, you did it,” Pan waved her shot glass in Bulla’s face. 

The pair had joined sometime after open season for Santa had been called. Once Goten had finished his long-winded wishlist and fanboying over Kris Kringle, he had given Bulla one last massive squeeze in thanks, and in a daze she had sought Pan out for some liquid comfort and distraction.

Her plan had gone off without a hitch. She may not have saved Santa for Goten forever, but at the very least she had preserved perhaps his last good memory of the fantasy. Now all she had to show for it was this lousy crush.

“Hooray, for me,” Bulla sighed, only half-heartedly lifting her glass.

Pan sneered. “Oh stop. You got what you wanted.”

“And what did I want?” Bulla wondered, both to herself and to Pan.

“Ah, ah, ah,” her friend glowered, smacking the tequila down and then clattering the shot glass to the table. “We’re not doing  _ that _ . You’re the one who did this to yourself. You shoulda known better.”

Bulla piffled and drained her glass. “I’m not doing anything,” she groused defensively. “I won. I’m celebrating. See my celebrating?” She wiggled her empty flute, before depositing it with the five others on the table.

“BULLA!”

_ Uh oh. _ It was very, very seldom that Trunks ever spoke her name so furiously. A mixture of ice cold fear, twisting guilt, and flashing indignance swirled with the alcohol in her stomach as Bulla squared up to prepare for a stand-off with her sibling. 

“Hmmm?” She hummed lightly at his angry, red face as he ducked down close to hers. “You okay, big bro?”

“A. Word,” he grit out between clenched teeth.

“Ugh,  _ fine _ ,” Bulla wrinkled her nose and hopped up from the table, all breezy nonchalance as she trailed her brother out into the hallway. They marched down the winding staircase to the lower floor, before Trunks tugged her harshly into a dim part of the hall beneath the stairwell. Bulla snatched her arm away as soon as they were out of sight - no need having the paparazzi hone in on a sibling spat.

“Excuse  _ you _ , what is your problem?”

“Why did you invite Marron?” Trunks snapped.

Bulla fluttered her eyelashes, mouth popped open in surprise. “Uhm, because she’s our friend?”

“She told me you picked her up,” he pointed at her. “She told me you said you needed help with something -- with  _ me _ .”

Defensive maneuvers engaged. Bulla crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side, chin cocked up in challenge. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she sniffed. “Don’t be mad at me because you got caught flirting with someone who’s  _ not _ your girlfriend--”

“Why do you care?” Trunks’ voice almost bridged a yell, and Bulla aimed to stomp on his toes but he was quicker on his feet. “Why do you care so much about Goten finding out about Santa, huh?”

“Maybe I just wanted him to have fun tonight!” Her arms untwisted to throw her hands up furiously into the air. “Maybe I didn’t want you to throw a wrench into  _ another _ one of my parties!”

Trunks spluttered, evidently clueless to her accusation. “What are you even talking about?”

“You ruin everything!” Bulla spat. “Every time I throw a function for the Corporation, you find some way to mess it up. The Summer Bash, Mom’s birthday party --  _ this! _ You didn't even think about it; you were so ready to spoil Santa for Goten for some phony honor thing. Why was it  _ so  _ important for you to have to tell him tonight? You couldn’t wait until, like, April?!”

“Tell me what tonight?” 

The Briefs siblings froze. 

Slowly, they both craned their heads upward, finding Goten leaned over the railing, peering warily down at them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double chapter day! I'm on quarantine from a Covid exposure, so expect this fic to be finished by Christmas. Whoooo~ I think one more chapter after this!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our fluffy conclusion!

“Tell me what tonight?”

Bulla and Trunks met each others’ anxious gazes simultaneously. The younger girl aggressively raised both eyebrows, wordlessly putting the ball in her brother’s court.

“Uh…” Trunks stammered, suddenly at a loss for words, which Bulla found morbidly amusing considering how loud and verbose he had just been with her moments before.

In the time it took for Trunks to find his voice, Goten had already descended the stairwell to join the pair, his expression growing less curious and more concerned the longer the silence stretched.

“It’s something we can talk about later,” the older Briefs finally exhaled as he raked a hand through his bangs. 

Bulla kept her eyes trained on the ground between their feet and staggered aside a couple of steps as Goten pulled up alongside her. She dared to glance up from under her lashes. The men were staring at one another now, Trunks quite sheepish now that he was being put on the spot and not in control. 

Awkwardly, she jerked a thumb up over her shoulder. “I think I… need to go back to the party,” she mumbled, catching Goten’s eye. She shrugged and attempted to bring herself up taller - she certainly had nothing to be worried about in this situation, right? “After all, I am the hostess.”

“Well, whatever this was,” Goten waved his hand between the siblings, “It seemed really intense. I was worried about you guys. Trunks, man, are you okay?” He turned then to look at his best friend, who had also managed to rearrange himself more confidently. “Why are you out here yelling? And is everything okay with Marron?”

That seemed to light the fire anew under Trunks, and he glared daggers aside at Bulla. “Yeah, we’re  _ fine _ ,” he emphasized pointedly, and Bulla rolled her eyes. “Bulla decided to go sticking her nose in places it didn’t belong.”

“Oh, come off it,” Bulla scoffed. “Stop being an ass, Trunks.”

“Yeah, especially with Santa in the other room,” Goten muttered with a quick look up at the staircase.

The Briefs stared hard at one another once again, and Trunks’ mouth slid into a grim line. 

Bulla swallowed, and without another comment, she turned and started back up the stairs.

Below her, she heard her brother sigh, “Goten… I’ve been wanting to tell you something.”

/*/

She was grateful for the party, once she had returned. A few more drinks in, and she was having a great time, the situation with Goten and Santa and Trunks almost completely evaporated from her mind. Bulla spent most of the remainder of the evening dancing with friends, even getting her father to concede to one sweet moment on the dance floor. 

That’s not to say she didn’t wonder. Every so often, Bulla wouldcast a concerned glance over the floor, attempting to sense Trunks and Goten out or spot them visually. However, it appeared Trunks had disappeared to somewhere else in the compound with Marron, and while Goten was still around the ballroom area, she had a difficult time pinpointing where, exactly. But out of sight, out of mind, and Bulla was determined to live up to the rest of her hostess duties for the evening.

Eventually, with her body buzzing from alcohol and feeling a bit bold, Bulla snooped through her mother’s purse for her cigarettes, fishing a couple out and tucking one behind each ear. With a furtive look cast her father’s way (he hated when she snuck the rare cigarette), Bulla made a quick exit out the ballroom and down the hall to an errant balcony. However, hand against the door, she froze as she recognized the bulky silhouette sitting on the bench outside.

With a heavy breath, she stuck a white stick in between her lips, pushed the door open, strutting out to join a glum Son Goten.

His dark eyes slid over to her, unsurprised to see her standing there - obviously he must’ve sensed her. He sighed and raised a hand to her, wondering, “Did you bring any extras?”

She smiled kindly and plucked the other cigarette from behind her ear, offering it to him. Goten poked it behind his own, it vanishing behind a spiky black lock, before withdrawing a lighter from his pocket for her. He flipped it open as she leaned forward, catching the flame.

The lighter snapped closed, and he looked away once again.

Bulla drew a breath in and exhaled a plume of smoke. “I take it Trunks told you.”

Goten nodded, and she noticed for the first time he was wearing a Santa hat… and…

Her lips quirked curiously, and she pointed at him with her cigarette. “Are… you wearing a Santa coat?”

“I stole it,” he admitted with a downcast look, and she had to stifle a giggle. He looked so sad. “After Trunks told me, I got a little drunk and… found Santa,” Goten mumbled.

At that, Bulla’s eyebrows flew into her hairline. “Uhm, he’s still… in one piece, right? Santa, I mean,” she clarified warily.

Goten chuckled lightly this time, to her relief, and nodded. “Yeah, I guess I just had to see for myself.” He blinked up at her offered lit cigarette, but took it and inhaled, before passing it back. “He’s actually a nice guy. Frank.”

“I hired him for you,” Bulla blurted, and a blush overtook her features. “I mean--”

“Yeahhh,” Goten drawled with narrowed eyes at Bulla as smoke billowed out his nostrils. “Trunks told me about that, too.”

She quieted under his inquisitive stare, suddenly feeling very embarrassed for having put so much effort into this whole ordeal - especially when it came to this ending, anyway. 

When he didn’t speak, Bulla ducked her head low, taking another drag. “I should’ve just left it alone,” she sighed. “I’m not very good at that.”

He laughed outright this time, the sound comforting her enough to look up at him again. Goten was grinning lopsidedly at her, and her heart skipped a beat under his affectionate gaze. “Your entire family sucks at that.”

“Sorry,” she winced.

Goten waved her off, before requesting the cigarette from her, which she obliged. He breathed out and dropped the butt on the ground, squashing the embers under his black dress shoe. Eventually, he returned his eyes upon her, and Bulla couldn’t quite place the look he was levelling her with now. 

“Don’t be,” his mouth eventually twisted into a wry smile. “I actually… I appreciate it, B.”

Bulla stood ramrod straight as she listened to him, her hands clasped in front of her as she awaited his explanation, hoping she hadn’t misheard.

He scooted over, patting the small space on the bench next to him. She froze for a moment, then acquiesced slowly, lowering herself beside the youngest Son. It felt weird, being this close, and basically in private tucked away in this secluded area. 

The quiet between them began to unnerve her, but finally he began to speak. “I understand my family doing it - my mom and Gohan still kinda treating me like a baby,” Goten rolled his eyes.

“Sucks, huh?” Bulla teased, and he knocked her shoulder with his own. 

“And then everyone else just … not wanting to make it weird,” he nodded with his words. “I dunno, maybe everyone didn’t want me to know how stupid it was--”

Bulla’s hand fell over his wrist and squeezed. “No! No, that’s not it. I mean,” she shrank a little under his careful eye, “that’s not why I did it.”

Goten’s eyebrow cocked in an unspoken question.

“I just thought,” she began sucking in a breath, “y’know, how many people still have that?”

“Naivety?” He supplied. 

She glared at him. “Innocence.”

A full-throated laugh lit up from inside him, and Bulla rolled her eyes and shoved at the arm she had still been holding. “You know what I mean!” She hissed. “Just… I dunno, I thought it was sweet, and usually this dumb holiday is about being selfish or consumerism as we get older, so seeing someone who still believed in the magic was--”

“Sweet?” Goten was smirking at her now. 

“Yeah. Sweet.”

The lingering eye contact made her skin prickle, and to her surprise, Goten raised a hand to tuck a wisp of teal behind her ear, smirk slowly replaced with a much gentler smile. His hand hovered in the air beside her face, before he dropped it hastily to his thigh with a cough.

“Well, I think you were pretty sweet too,” he cleared his throat and rearranged himself so his knees were not turned toward hers. “What you did tonight was really special, Bulla. I won’t forget it. Thank you for that."

Bulla smiled softly, head bashfully bowed as she murmured, “You’re welcome.”

The tension between them seemed to release a little, and both shook with private chuckles. A cold breeze billowed around them, and Bulla noticed just how cold she had become just sitting out there - the only comfort of warmth coming from her proximity from the other half-Saiyan. She shivered, wrapping her arms around her torso, and doubled over herself.

“Oh, shit, you’re freezing!” Goten observed, shrugging out of the oversized Santa coat. He rushed to cover her shoulders with it before she could decline - and once the heat enveloped her, she didn’t know that she would’ve. “Sorry, I’m just out here gabbing your ear off while you’re--”

She didn’t fail to miss the quick glance he gave to her front, and her cheeks began to heat for a whole other reason. “Do, uh, do you think you’re gonna come back inside?” Bulla queried with a head tilt toward the door. “Enjoy the rest of the party?”

Goten hemmed and rolled his shoulders in a stretch, bobbing his head from side to side as he weighed the options. “Ehh, maybe not,” he decided, not a little awkwardly. “I think I’m kind of out of the holiday spirit now.”

“Oh,” Bulla mumbled to her lap.

“But, uh,” he started with a side glance at her, “I think Trunks is busy with Marron, and I kinda had made plans to hang with him tonight. Do you…”

She peeked up at him curiously at his hesitance.

Setting his jaw, Goten dipped his head at the railing. “D’you wanna keep company with this  _ innocent sweetie _ ?” 

“Oh my god,” she rolled her eyes with a girlish giggle. “You’re so dumb.”

“Wait.. is that a no?”

She stood up, her hands pulling the red velvet coat more snuggly around herself. “Get up, let’s go. These boots are killing me.”

As Bulla headed toward the doors, the man jumped up eagerly to trail her, eyeing her footwear from behind. “Well, you look great.”

His hand shot out around her, opening the portal for her, and Bulla cast him a coy look. “You really are a sweetie, huh?”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

/*/ 

Bulma would probably be annoyed later, when she would realize her daughter up and disappeared, vacating her duties. Her father (and brother probably) would likely not approve whatsoever of her position directly next to the youngest Son. 

But as far as Bulla was concerned, this was her Christmas miracle courtesy of her own personal Santa.

The pair were settled on one of the couches in the living room, completely on the other side of the compound where the party was likely winding down. A glance at the clock revealed the time to be after midnight, and Bulla felt a hot flush through her chest not for the first time since they had started the holiday movie that was halfway through already.

“Picked something a little on the nose,” Goten chuckled with his eyes still trained on the television, Buddy the Elf hissing at a fake mall Santa on the screen. “This wouldn’t happen to have been a purposeful selection, huh?”

Bulla kept her gaze steadfast on the screen, expression overly surprised at his accusation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

After a little while, Bulla wondered aloud, “So, what did you ask Santa for this year?”

Goten sniggered. “You mean Frank?” When she giggled lightly, he shrugged and tossed back a handful of popcorn from the bowl between them. “Does it matter now?”

“Why not?”

He squinted at her in the dim light from the television. “Really?” When she simply eyed him back, Goten tilted his chin up at her. “You first. What did  _ you _ ask Santa for?”

“I never got to talk to Santa,” Bulla sighed dramatically. “No Christmas wish for me.”

Goten straightened up next to her and patted his lap abruptly. “Well, come on.”

“Excuse me?” Bulla blinked furiously as she fought the rosy heat in her cheeks. “What are you--”

With a vague gesture toward his hat and red coat, Goten made a face as though his intention was obvious. He continued to stare at her expectantly, and eventually Bulla took a breath on a weird laugh and rose up to her feet. Delicately as possible, she settled her bottom on his left thigh between his long, parted legs, one arm wrapping around his shoulder and her other hand clenching in her lap. 

She prayed quietly he couldn’t feel how hard her heart was beating in that moment, especially since it seemed like he was unphased by their positioning.

“Ho ho ho,” Goten’s voice boomed about three octaves lower, the rumbling from his chest tickling her ribs. “Have you been naughty or nice this year, little girl?”

“Uhh,” Bulla pressed her lips into a nervous line, a shaky giggle rocking her. “I mean, shouldn’t  _ you  _ be the one to tell me that?”

He mused over this as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I guess that’s true,” he continued in the silly low voice. “I’d say you’ve been nice!”

“Based on what?” Bulla cocked her head to the side with a challenging brow, hyper aware of his arm shifting to drop about her waist. “How  _ do _ you know?”

“Just a feeling,” Goten shrugged, voice back to normal. Playfully, he waggled his eyebrows up at her. “Why?  _ Have _ you been naughty?”

“Depends on who you ask,” she whispered on a laugh.

“Well?” Off her uncertain look, Goten inclined his head toward her rosy face. “What were you gonna wish for this year?”

_ Good lord _ , Bulla had to breathe steadily,  _ but he was so close _ . Something mischievous was teasing her in his obsidian eyes as he stared up at her patiently, waiting for her to play along. 

But she couldn’t play. The ability to pretend along and all the words in her brain vanished, and Bulla was only left with the urge to make her wish come true herself. Without a second though, she closed her eyes and leaned forward, pressing her tinted lips chastely against his. Beneath her, around her, she felt him tense, and Bulla drew back just enough to peer down at him.

“I … think that,” she said softly, blue eyes dancing between his dark ones.

“O-oh,” his single syllable shook over his breath, before he pulled her close again with the arm looped around her, stealing another, far less chaste kiss from her surprised mouth.

Goten pulled away from her with a hurried huff of something, and he moved to dive back in. But Bulla’s hands held him at bay, her nose brushing his in the space between their mouths.

“Wait, wait,” she puffed. “What did you just say?”

He blinked up at her dazedly, as though confused for a moment. Registering what she had said, Goten chuckled, flat palm pushing aqua strands from out of her face as he admired her in the blue glow from the forgotten holiday film.

“I said ‘Merry Christmas’,” he clarified in a hush.

With a beaming smile, Bulla tilted her head toward him again, heart leaping as he pushed his lips up into hers eagerly once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending courtesy of the amazing Lusta and some holiday fanart! Thanks love! :)  
> Happy Holidays to you all! Thank you for the lovely reviews! You're all so sweet.


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